It occurs to Harry suddenly, while she writes. She hasn't thought much of it before, hasn't paid heed to Hermione's troubled looks.
Caelum is Caelum. His insults are part of his charm, so why would she?
But just how much is she willing to tolerate? She needs to draw a line.
"Pigeon?" Caelum's eyes are so blue, so stupidly blue, and she can't look away from them unless she's working on potions.
Which she happens to be, at the moment. Harry doesn't want to look, she never looks. She's had too much bitter and all she wants is some sweet and that only happens if she doesn't look.
"Why do you still say 'mudblood'?" She says it casually, without any particular stress on the word. She says it like it's just a tiny thing to correct.
She says it like the answer wouldn't change everything. She doesn't know if it would change everything, and she hates herself for that more than anything.
Caelum stiffens, like she expects. But she doesn't withdraw, doesn't move on from the topic like she desperately wishes she could. She needs to know, he needs to say it, or she's sure this carefully crafted bond will sour.
"What do you mean?"
Harry looks a bit incredulous, "Why do you still use the word 'mudblood'? Or half-blood as a descriptor, for that matter."
Caelum looks a little frustrated, though at what she can't imagine, "It's just… normal for me." She tries not to wince, she tries, "This never used to bother you before, half— Harry."
"Well, that's a mistake of the past," Harry says sharply. Perhaps too sharply.
She knows it is lost, when Caelum gets on the defensive. There is no arguing with him now.
She does, though. She argues, because for the first time, she thinks she might just have the bitter straight again.
"Look, I- I can't take you saying things like that— believing things like that, if you're going to be in a relationship with me."
"No, you're— you're brilliant, Harry," Caelum says, "I could never… I don't think of you as lesser. Trust me."
She does. But…
"Is it just me?" She has to press, she tells herself. She has to know.
She doesn't want to know.
"What?" Caelum is confused, and Harry pushes aside the insane urge to laugh.
"Am I the exception? The one smart, good half-blood girl worthy enough for your presence?" She thinks of Lily, she thinks of Hermione, and she thinks of the venomous words that dripped from his lips at the New Year's Gala.
Caelum's jaw clenches, "It's not… like that."
"Then what is it like?"
Just say it.
"I-I'm trying to forget everything my mother and father taught me about half blood and muggle borns."
"Are you?" Harry says, "It's one thing to have a traitorous, betraying thought. Another to think about it at every opportunity. Which is it?
"Is this about Granger?" Caelum spits, "Bannet?"
"Tell me," Harry doesn't want this, she doesn't wish this until she does, "Am I— are they— an exception? Are they just not too bad for mudbloods?" She spits the word, and something in her twists. Yes, this is the right thing to do.
Caelum stays quiet.
Her grip on her potions periodical tightens, "Can you go up on a world stage and say that half bloods and muggle borns aren't lesser? Merlin, do you believe it?"
Caelum opens his mouth, before pausing for a second. He seems to decides on something, "If it means keeping you."
And that should be it, that should be the line that makes her heart flutter but…
"That won't do," she tries to say it firmly, but her voice cracks, "It's wrong for anyone to be seen that way and… and I think I'd rather you change for the right reasons. I think we should… take a break."
"A… break." He doesn't meet her eyes.
"Yes. I don't want this, Caelum, but I'm starting to think we need it." Harry takes a deep breath, "Take your time, and let me know if— when, you understand."
Caelum says nothing, just gives a jerk of his head that could be taken as agreement before he swirls away and out of the floo.
She is only vaguely aware of sitting down, a crumpled periodical clutched in her fingers.